


this is that white gold

by effonterious



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Humanstuck, M/M, unfortunately but thats just how this idea turned out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3483947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effonterious/pseuds/effonterious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a dumb boy and the equally dumb boy he's in love with.<br/>(Or the one where Equius is so pretty and Dirk watches him from afar, until he doesn't have to anymore.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is that white gold

**Author's Note:**

> oh my goddd this is so corny. its also the first fic i ever finished (and only to this date, which is 2/20/2017 bc im shit at finishing things) which is probably the only reason i have emotional attachment to it.  
> also fyi: equius is skinny and small, which? i guess was a thing that happened. anyway, enjoy  
> disclaimer: i own none of these characters, andrew hussie is a god among mortals, and you have a beautiful smile.

The first thought I have when I see his face is that he is terrifyingly pretty.

(I've only seen boys as pretty as that in high fashion magazines, or in foreign queer films, where lack of masculinity is not a crime.)

He's delicate too, his skin clinging to his bones over a slight layer of wiry muscle. I see him in the field across from where my gym class played soccer, his shirt hanging off his thin chest, and he takes my breath away.

After two days of watching, I decide that he's the most wonderful person I've ever seen. I've fallen into a (maybe sort of) love with him before I even know his name.

-

A week later I find out it out: Equius. (A strange name, and yet it suits him.) He's in my first period Biology class, and he's seated in such a way that I'm able to look at him whenever I please (which is often). He sometimes smiles with his friends, sometimes laughs, and each time is like a burst of winter sun. He is, simply put, wonderful.

And yet.

I don't have any delusions about him and I. To be entirely honest, I'm not even sure he knows my name. We don't talk, don't exchange glances; he doesn't notice me. I can't let myself want him.

(One time as we stand at our lab stations, he reaches up to one of the cupboards, causing his sweatshirt to ride up. He isn't wearing a shirt underneath, and I see his perfect, flat, abdomen, and nearly drop my test tube of elodea leaves.)

My simple pleasures are the quick flashes of exposed skin when he takes of his jacket, the way he pushes his hair back when he concentrates, the few times our eyes meet while I gaze at him (and wish and hope), though I become more careful that he never catches me looking.

He becomes my reason for life. I'm pathetic, but it's a little easier to get out of bed if I know I can see him for an hour or two each morning. My days are spent with his smile burned behind my eyelids, my nights pass with him in my dreams.

 

* * *

 

One Friday, when the weather has turned cold and we huddle in dark sweaters and thick lace-up boots, he sits next to me.

"The next lab," he says, "the one with the cell model, we have to do it in partners." I'm lost in his voice. "Mr. English paired us up together yesterday, when you were absent."

Oh god, oh yes.

"Oh, alright," My heart pounds. His lips are such a lovely shade of pink.

"So should I come over to work on it?" he asks. His eyes are a deep blue. From a distance they seemed almost black, but up close I can see every line and hue in his irises.

"Today?" My voice seems caught in my throat, a toneless whisper.

He shifts in his chair. "Is that alright? I mean, he's not giving us a lot of time to work on it in class, so-"

"Right, no, it makes sense. I, yeah, sure." I rub my neck and look at the lab sheet. "I'll have to check with my parents first, but I'm sure they'll be okay with it," I glance up at him and smile slightly, then wince away.

"Great," he says. "I mean, I have to check with my parents too, but it should be fine." He laughs a little breathlessly and my stomach drops. He clears his throat. "So, do you ride the bus home?"

"Right, yeah. Bus 65. It's usually the last one to arrive."

He smiles. "That's alright, mine's usually pretty late too. What part of town do you live in?"

"It's sort of near the mall. Like, do you know where Triphammer is?"

We keep talking for a bit, awkward smiles and quick glances, and somehow it's nice. I agree to meet him after school by his locker.

(He takes my wrist in his thin fingers and writes the number, 100D, on the pale underside of my wrist with a bright blue sharpie. I already knew it, but the feeling of his thumb on my pulse kept my mouth closed.)

-

The euphoria of first period quickly wears off and gives way to anxiety by second. God, what was I doing? What if my room smelled bad? No, I'd vacuumed yesterday, it should be fine. But what if it wasn't? Should I light a candle? No, that would be weird. I frowned. That would be really weird.

I stare at my Calculus homework in horror. What if he gets weirded out and leaves? Then what do I do? I walk to Lit in a frantic daze.

My stomach twists itself into coils too tight to force food into. I do my French homework and worry about whether he'd like my room or not. What will we talk about? What if I say something that offends him? I don't think I could handle the shame.

Now that I've had a taste of what it is like to really talk to him, to be friends even in the most general sense, I can't imagine going back to how it had been before. I want to see him smile, and know it was because of me. I want to hear him laugh, and know it was from something I said.

When my French class starts I realize I've filled in all the blanks with just the word 'merde'. This is hell.

I see him again for a moment before seventh period. He's walking with a few of his friends, and catches my eye. I'm walking alone.

I smile at him slightly, not sure if he'll acknowledge me or not. We hadn't spoken at all before this, and I know that, but I can't help but hope. (That's all I ever do, hope and wish and dream.)

He smiles back, crinkling his eyes, and raises his sleeve covered hand.

The coils in my stomach loosen, and I wave back. He's still smiling, until he's jostled by one of his friends, who glances at me. We have English together, but there isn't any recognition in his face. Part of me aches.

Finally, it's eighth period. I skip the last fifteen minutes of Studio Art to stare hopelessly into the mirror and apply some hasty deodorant. I'm already a hormonal teenage boy, and those hormones combined with crush-anxiety result in a sweaty, nervous, hormonal teenage boy who's freaking out over whether or not he might get hard in front of the boy he loves.

The coils clench around my lungs, and I squirt soap into my palm.

I start washing my hands, glaring at the water as it flows into the rusted drain.

Do I really love him? I always describe our relationship in my head as love (from me to him with nothing in return) but how can it be that?

Simply and honestly, I don't know him. I don't know how many siblings he has, what he does to feel happy, why he changed in a bathroom stall during the swimming unit in gym. I don't even know his favorite color.

Blue, I suddenly remember. There was a get-to-know-each-other activity on the first day, and he said his favorite color was blue. It's oddly comforting to know.

The bell rings. I clear my throat, scrape the water off my hands with a paper towel, run my fingers through my hair a final time, and walk out of the bathroom. I put in my earbuds and push my way through the hallway to his locker, on the other side of the school.

It may not be love, what I feel for Equius, but it's something. It's something strong and very much there, and I'm going to hold onto it with my life.

 

* * *

 

He's already at his locker when I get there, twisting a little to get into his jacket. He scrunches up his face a bit as he struggles to get his arms through the sleeves. I can't help but smile.

When he sees me, he smiles too. God, all of my nerves are worth it for that boys' smile.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," I say back.

He laughs a little, the same light breath as before. "So, uh, do you need to go to your locker before we leave?"

"Yeah. It's just around the corner, so," I cough and rub my neck awkwardly as he adjusts his backpack on his shoulders.

He's standing against the flow of traffic, and someone pushes him as they hurry out. The force causes him to stumble back a step, and before I can think I grab his forearm. Under the thin fleece I can feel the solidity of muscle, the tips of my fingers pressed against bone under skin and sinew. He breathes sharply and steadies himself. I don't let go.

"Are you okay?" I ask, unconsciously brushing my thumb over the soft fabric of his sleeve. He looks at me, eyes wide. I realize that I'm still holding his arm, and that that is not something I should be doing.

I let go, and he blinks.

"Sorry," I say, stepping away.

"No, it's fine," he says, his voice falsely airy. He clears his throat and adjusts his backpack again. "Thanks."

I nod awkwardly and glance around me. No one seems to have noticed what just happened, but my heart's pounding and my blood feels watery in my veins.

He shuts his locker, carefully. It's kind of sweet in a strange way. Every one of his actions are as delicate as he is. I allow myself a few careful beats to gaze at him, his fine cheek bones and thin eyebrows. He meets my eyes for a moment and I quickly look away, turning in the direction of my locker.

"Right, so, I'll just grab my stuff quick. You can just stay here, if you want?" I glanced back at him. "I'll only be a moment, I mean." He's looking at me with his head tilted, a strange expression I can't interpret on his face.

"No, it's alright," he says. The halls around us have emptied. "I'll just come with you." He smiles slightly, one side of his mouth quirking up. "We should get going anyway."

I bite my lip and nod, turning the corner. I kneel in front of my locker, acutely aware of his presence behind me. My locker is clean, but it's also entirely empty, save for my coat and French textbook. His had a few photos taped to the back of it, pictures of his equestrian team, of his friends. I try to ignore his eyes on me as I grab my coat and stand up.

"So, let's go." I say, shutting the locker door with my foot. He nods, and we start walking toward the parking lot.

-

We get there right as the last bus pulls out of the parking lot.  
"Oh," Equius says, watching it drive away. I laugh in disbelief.

"Shit."

We stand in silence. When he turns to face me, his eyebrows are raised.

"My house is like thirty minutes from here," he says, a tentative smile pulling the right side of his mouth up. "We could...walk?"

I look at him. It's started to snow, and neither of us are dressed for a walk in below-freezing weather.

"...or I could call my mom, see if she can pick us up?" he adds. His smile starts to slip at the edges.

I close my eyes and tilt my face upwards. I could wait a few minutes and be warm and safe and dry in a car...

...or I could keep that smile on his face.

I meet his eyes and grin despite myself.  
"Sure. Why not?"

His entire face lights up, and in that moment I don't need an electronic heater to keep me warm.

 

* * *

Walking in the snow isn't as bad as I'm expecting. There's more snow by the minute, but it's not that cold, and the flakes are large and wet. They dust our eyelashes and melt into water droplets on our skin.

And then there's Equius. He hasn't stopped smiling since we left the parking lot, kicking snow clumps around and laughing every time some ends up on my jeans. It's contagious, the way his eyes crinkle up all soft and he stares up at the sky in awe.

"You act like you've never seen snow before," I tease. He looks down at the sidewalk, shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

"I really haven't before," he admits. "I grew up in New Mexico, and it never snowed there. I'd only seen snow in films or on the news."

"Oh, wow," I say. "God, I can't imagine never having snow."

He laughs quietly. "Yeah."

"So does this mean you've never built a snowman, or made a snow angel, or anything?"

He considers this. "We used to make sand angels in December, but it always just kind of hurt my back."

"Christ," I say, shaking my head. "That's a disgrace." I shrug of my backpack and place it on a nearby bench. "C'mon, we're going to make some essential childhood memories."

He just looks at me for a moment, expression unreadable again. I falter. Was that a wrong thing to do?

But then he smiles brighter than he has the entire time we've been together and I quietly sigh in relief. He places his backpack next to mine and looks up at me expectantly.

My mind goes blank. His eyes are widened slightly and he's still smiling faintly and I want to kiss him so badly it hurts.

I don't, of course. But I hold out my hand and he takes it and I pull him over to the nearest yard.

"Okay, so you did this in New Mexico right?" He nods. I realize my hand is still in his, and more importantly that he hasn't let go yet.

I'm the one who does, a moment later, to demonstrate falling backwards into the snow. Unfortunately, it's only been snowing for maybe twenty minutes, so I land in half an inch of soft snow and six feet of hard, frozen earth.

"This is the part where I would make a beautiful angel, but actually I'm just in pain." I say as snowflakes drift into my eyes. Either Equius or the snow has made me giddy and it's easier to talk.

Equius laughs out loud, the beautiful traitor, and hits the ground next to me.

"Hey, you don't need to suffer, you could've stayed warm and dry," I say, kicking his foot.

"I have to make those 'essential childhood memories,'" he reminds me, and I don't need to turn and look at him to know he's smiling, but I do anyway. His cheeks are flushed and his dark eyes are shining.

"When's your birthday?" I ask.

He doesn't miss a beat. "July 12th, 1998."

"Bullshit."

"I swear to god, I'll even show you my birth certificate when we get to my house."

"There's no way you're older than me," I say, sitting up. He does the same, and we sit close in the cold snow.

"Why?" he asks, raising one eyebrow. "Don't I look sixteen?"

I laugh. "No way, dude, you look like you're maybe fourteen."

"What? How?"

"Well, you know, you're," Ridiculously pretty and delicate and fragile and I want to kiss him I want to kiss him I want- "you're really small."

He rolls his eyes. "That's what everyone says. I'm not even that small, I'm only an inch shorter than you!"

I laugh. He shoves me.

"You're so thin though," I say, smiling at him. "That's why you look so much smaller."

He frowns. "Yeah, I hate it."

I stop smiling. "What, why?"

He looks away, putting his arms around his knees. "Like you said, it makes me seem so small. I hate that. I want to seem strong."

We sit in silence for a few seconds. He lies back down, spreading out his arms and closing his eyes before speaking up again.

"Like you," he says. "You look strong. You're only an inch taller than me but you look more, I don't know. Masculine. I look like a fucking girl."

"Hey," I say quietly. "No, you don't. True, you're pretty for a guy, but you don't look like a girl."

He's quiet for a beat, and then he opens his eyes, a small smile forming on his face. "You think I'm pretty?"

Shit. "Well, uh, yeah. I mean it's hard not to notice, you're just. Pretty." I'm positive that made it worse, but what am I supposed to say? No homo? Yeah, you're so pretty I can barely stop looking at you, but don't worry man, it's platonic.

He closes his eyes again, still smiling. It may just be the cold, but he looks like he's blushing. "You're not so bad yourself."

My heart explodes. I laugh, trying to stay cool. "Thanks." Holy fucking shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

Is he... flirting with me?

We sit in silence again, but it's comfortable now (minus the erratic jumps of my heart). Once again, he's the one to break it.

"We're still ten minutes from my house," he says. "If we don't get home soon, my dad's gonna get mad."

I nod. "Right, yeah." I stand first, and hold out my hand to him. He takes it and allows me to pull him up, but I miscalculate and he topples into me. His other hand hits my chest while mine holds his waist to steady him. His face is inches from mine, and he's looking right at me.

"This is the second time you've fallen," I manage to say.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm kind of clumsy."

His hand moves from my chest to my shoulder. The snow falling so hard that the only thing I can see is him. He looks at my lips and then back to my eyes. My breathing is shallow, but his is steady and sure.

So I kiss him.

And he kisses back.

* * *

 

It's a chaste kiss, only lasting a few moments. More a brush of lips than anything.

But it's Equius. I kissed Equius, wonderful beautiful perfect Equius, and he kissed me back.

When we part, I'm not sure whether to keep my hands on his waist or wait for him to run away. His eyes are closed, and his face is serene.

"Was that okay?" I ask. My voice trembles as I watch him.

His eyes open slow and he smiles soft. "Yeah, it was okay."

I don't have any words that could make this moment more than it is, so I pull him into my chest and we stand in silence.

It's so peaceful, holding him while snow drifts all around us. I'm hardly nervous anymore. All I feel is bliss.

That feeling lasts for a few heavenly moments before we remember we have snow down our backs and in between our toes and neither of us are even wearing gloves.

"So you can shower at my place, if you want to," he says. We walk back to the park bench to get our bags. I'm still not sure what I can do and what I can't, but he easily takes my frozen hand in his and oh, suddenly I'm a little less cold.

"Yeah, thanks," I say. "I don't really have any clothes I could change into, though." I don't add what we both know, that his clothes probably wouldn't fit on my body.

He waves it off though. "My dad just bought some new clothes that are too big for me. I've only worn them once or twice as pajamas, so they're clean. Besides," he says, looks at me and grins, "isn't that a couple thing? To wear each others' clothes?"

Oh. Oh, oh, oh. Couple. He just called us a couple. I check my free hand to make sure I only have five fingers.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"I saw somewhere that you can tell you're dreaming if you have like, six fingers."

"Where did you see that?" He's laughing at me.

I cough. "Teen Wolf."

He laughs again, louder.

I roll my eyes and shove him. "C'mon, don't you have a guilty pleasure show?"

He bites his lip, and kicks a bit of ice on the sidewalk.

"C'mooooonn. Tell me. Is it Gossip Girl? Naruto? Oh my god, that's it, isn't it. You watch Naruto."

He shoves me back. "No, Jesus." He sighs. "Okay, but you can't laugh."

"You laughed at Teen Wolf!"

"Shut up, this is worse!"

I deadpan. "Okay. No laughing, I swear on the soul of our future cell model."

He doesn't even blink at that, only blushes and pushes his hair away from his face. "It's Octonauts."

I stare at him. "Oh my god."

He blushes harder. "Shut up."

"Oh my god, that's adorable."

"Shut up, oh my god I shouldn't have told you-"

I tighten my fingers around his as we walk. He's smiling and still blushing and I'm sure I am too. I don't even mind the cold that's starting to sink into my bones, I'm too busy being in love with the boy next to me.

"So," he says after a moment of quiet. "Being with me is like a dream?"

I glance at him, suddenly nervous again. His mouth is tilted up on one side, more sweet than mischievous.

"Yes," I say after a moment, and it feels like I'm letting go of something that's been weighing in my chest since the day I first saw him. "It is like a dream."

He smiles.

I don't say anything else. I already feel like I'm pushing my luck. If I told him that I can't find a single fault in him and I (maybe sort of) want to spend the rest of our lives together, it would definitely be weird.

He's still smiling, swinging our joined hands a little. Just hours ago I would've been content with only a glance from him, ecstatic at a smile. Now I'm holding his hand in mine. Moments ago I was touching his lips.

"We're here," he says, stopping in front of a trim blue two-story house. He lets go of my hand, glancing at me apologetically as he opens the door.

"My dad's kind of strict," he says in low tone, motioning me to slip off my sneakers. "We're home!" he calls into the house, and leads me through a living room. The only answer is the sharp ring of a telephone, that's quickly cut off by the sound of an deep voice.

The living room is in stifling order; the pillows match walls that match the rugs, and there are flowers that match the lamps in vases that match the carpet.

Equius notices my look and gives a half smile. "I know," he says. "I hate it too."

We turn past a kitchen (pristine white with lemon accents), up a flight of stairs (an actual spiral staircase), and down a hallway (framed by tasteful paintings and a numberless clock) before we reach what I'm assuming is his room.

He shuts the door behind us and sighs. I raise my eyebrows.

"It's like a magazine, I know."

I laugh quietly, trying to make this okay. "What does your dad do, anyway?"

"Some high-level government job. I honestly don't know exactly what." He sits on his desk chair and starts taking off his wet socks. "Uh, you can leave your stuff by the bed," he says. "I'll grab those clothes."

Bed. Equius' bed. I'm in Equius' room.

Right. Okay.

I shrug off my backpack and unzip my coat, leaning my bag against the bed and placing my coat on top of it. Equius slides open his closet doors and takes out a soft-looking white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants.

His room is neat, with posters of polo players and robots and a blue duvet. There's a desk in the corner covered in carefully-placed video game figurines, a grey lamp and a white binder labelled "PROJECTS".

The house is decently warm, but I'm still shivering. Equius hands the clothes to me along with a clean towel.

"The bathroom's on the left, we passed it on the way here," he says, brushing my fingers as he pulls his hands back. My breathing stutters and he smiles.

"Thanks," I manage, nodding awkwardly. This perfect house makes me nervous.

The bathroom is clean and white, with dark blue towels and one of those weird toilet covers that rich people have. I mess around with the shower before undressing. I don't want to stand around naked trying to figure the dials out. I fold my clothes and place them next to the ones he gave me on the minimalist table, very aware this isn't my home.

It feels weird to be naked with Equius only a room away. (But also kind of exhilarating.)

I stand under the spray, shivering as the warm water hits my chilled skin. God, it feels good.

There's only one set of products in the shower, which must be what Equius uses. I pick up a half-empty bottle of pink shampoo, and oh my god, it's strawberry. The body wash is coconut. I'm so in love.

I inhale the sweet scent as I rub it through my hair and into my skin, and it's heavenly.

There's a light knock, and the door opens.

"Hey," Equius says. I catch my breath.

"Hey." Ohmygod I don't have any clothes on and Equius is right there and he can see my boxer briefs and Equius is _right there_ –

"Sorry, I was just going to grab your clothes to wash, if that's alright."

I can't even look at him through the opaque curtain. I clear my throat.

"Right, yeah, thank you."

He's quiet. "No problem."

I bite my lip and stare at my wrinkling toes. There's the sound of rustling as he gathers my pile and the open and close of the door. I let out a breath.

We just kissed, and I'm still so nervous around him.

I rinse off my hair and body and shut off the water. There's a nice bath mat on the floor as I step out of the shower. At my brother's apartment, we just use a ratty old towel. Equius' towels are thick and faintly warm from the steam. I dry myself off, and realize that he took my underwear too.

I wrap the towel around my hips, making sure I'm not dripping, and open the door. "Equius?" I walk into the hallway. "Uh, Equius?"

There's no answer. The door to his room is open. I walk in, looking around. I don't want to just take his underwear, but I also don't want to go commando in just a thin pair of sweatpants, especially around a boy I'm very, _very_ attracted to.

His closet door is still open too. I walk over, loosening my grip on the towel a little. People keep their underwear in closets, right? I push clothes back and forth, not entirely sure what I'm looking for.

"Dirk?" Equius' voice is a little choked.

I whirl around and my hands fly up. My towel slips a little on my waist. "Oh my god I'm so sorry I just needed some underwear—"

"No, it's fine, I, uh," his eyes are traveling down my torso. "Uh."

I blush. "Um."

He looks up quickly, reddening. "Right. Underwear. You need underwear."

I nod, and the towel falls entirely off my hips.

He doesn't even try to meet my eyes.

 

* * *

  

When I have actual pants on (and a borrowed pair of boxers he swears are brand-new) we sit with our biology binders in front of us. I'm on the floor with my legs propped on a bean bag, and Equius' sitting opposite from me with his back resting against his bed. His skinny legs are stretched out so that his bare feet brush against my hip.

(Christ, I was naked in front of him ten minutes ago.)

He'd just laughed it off while I'd grabbed the towel and apologized over and over again, red-faced and shaky. I couldn't even savor that he was definitely looking at my body because Jesus Christ I was naked and it wasn't even in a sexy way.

At the moment we're answering the pre-lab questions, but I can't concentrate at all.

"Okay, so the function of the endoplasmic reticulum is...?"

I cough. "Manufactures proteins?"

"I actually don't know, so let's assume that's right." He writes it down and I do the same. His eyelashes are low as he looks down at his paper. When he blinks they brush gently against the very top of his cheek.

"Hey," I say. "Equius?"

"Yeah?" He responds without looking up.

"Why did you let me kiss you?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment, so I continue, setting my binder down next to me and folding my legs.

"I mean, we didn't really know each other before today. Other than bio, we don't have any classes together, and we didn't really talk. So," I hesitate. He glances up at me. "Why?"

He looks down for a moment, and then meets my eyes. "I've wanted to talk to you for a while. I mean, I always saw you looking at me, and I thought, maybe, I don't know, you liked me. So I waited for you to say something, to do anything to let me know, but you never did."

I stare at him.

His eyes crinkle. "You're blushing so hard right now, it's adorable."

"Oh my fucking god," I manage. "I thought I was being subtle."

He laughs. "You really weren't."

"Wait, so how long...? I mean, how long have you, like, known?"

He smiles, shifting so that his knees touch mine. "When we had swimming in gym. Before that I hadn't really noticed it, but Nepeta told me you kept staring at me in the pool, so I couldn't not. I mean, I'd, uh, always thought you were hot, but I never really thought anything could happen."

Oh my god. That's why he starting changing in the common area of the locker room. Shit.

"So, you liked me. Can I just get verbal confirmation of that? Because I'm having trouble processing it."

He laughs through his nose. "Yes, Dirk, I liked you. And I still do, in case you were wondering."

Oh, my god. Oh my god. I lean over to shove him.

"You should've said something, oh my god! I was getting so angsty over our 'love that could never be'!"

"Hey, I wasn't sure about anything! I mean, you look pretty straight at first glance," he says, laughing.

"So do you," I protest. "I thought you were up until, well, we kissed."

He laughs again, softer now.

"Was that your first kiss?" he asks.

I bite my lip. "Yeah," I admit. "it was."

"Me too," Equius says, smiling.

God.

He's beautiful.

"So are we, you know, dating?" I ask carefully. I don't know what he'll say. This, all of this, still feels too perfect to be possible.

He looks at me, all blushes and crinkly-eyed smiles. "I'd like to be, if that's alright with you."

My heart soars. Which holy god sounds cliche, but there's no way else to describe the feeling that's making my chest warm and my pulse stutter.

"Yeah. I'd like that too."

He grins so so wide, ducks his head down down and blushes hard. He looks happy, and it's because of me.

(He wants me, he wants me.)

I know I look dumb, all soft-eyed and smiling, but I can't help it. God, I love this boy.

(I don't say that, of course. I'll save that confession for another day.)

"So now that we're dating," I start to say with a slow smile. "I could, theoretically, kiss you whenever I want, yeah?"

He smiles and raises his eyebrows in mock seriousness. "Theoretically, yes."

I lean in. "Mind if I, uh, test? That theory?"

He snorts and buries his face in my shoulder. "Oh my god, idiot."

I laugh, and tilt his chin up towards me. He looks up from under his lashes, a half-smile still on his face. I can't help but stare.

He gently nudges me with his hip. "Do it already, dumbass."

I stroke his cheek with my thumb, and his eyes flutter shut. He hums a little, quiet.

This time, when I kiss him, it lasts a lot longer than half of a second.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! this was a lot of fun to write, and i think this version is much better than the original (due to months of re-editing lmao). if there are any mistakes or discrepancies please let me know in the comments! thanks again!! <3


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